Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Naomi Ellis had spent five years learning how to live quietly.
That was not the same as living peacefully.
Peace implied safety.
Quiet only meant nobody had found you yet.
Her apartment in Queens was small but warm, tucked above a family-owned bakery that smelled like cinnamon every morning and burnt sugar every afternoon. The windows rattled when the subway passed. The kitchen was too narrow for two people to stand in comfortably. The living room was crowded with Lily’s books, art supplies, dolls, and an impressive collection of stuffed rabbits.
Naomi loved every inch of it.
Because it was theirs.
Because every morning, Lily ran down the hallway in mismatched socks and climbed into her bed.
Because every night, Naomi got to kiss her daughter’s forehead and promise that tomorrow would be better.
She had made a life from scraps.
Freelance design work. Late-night projects. Small clients. A few carefully chosen contracts under a different business name. She had learned to avoid public events, avoid cameras, avoid people who asked too many questions.
Most importantly, she had learned never to say Marco Moretti’s name out loud.
Not because she hated him.
That would have been easier.
She hated that some part of her still remembered the man before the darkness swallowed everything.
The man who brought her coffee exactly the way she liked it after only hearing her order once.
The man who sat through an entire art exhibit pretending to understand abstract sculpture because she loved it.
The man who had kissed her under rain-soaked Atlanta streetlights and said, “I don’t know what this is yet, Naomi. But I know I don’t want it to end.”
Then one night, he had vanished.
Her calls went unanswered.
Her messages stayed unread.
And two weeks later, she received the threat.
A man with a smooth voice told her that Marco had made his decision.
That powerful men did not become fathers by accident.
That she should disappear before she became a problem.
Naomi had believed it because she had seen Marco’s world.
She had seen the black cars waiting outside restaurants.
The armed men who stood too close.
The way strangers shifted when he entered a room.
The way his father, Vittorio Moretti, had looked at her exactly once and made her feel like prey.
So she left.
She let the world believe she was dead.
And she promised herself Lily would never have to fear the man who had broken her heart.
At 11:47 p.m., Naomi was working on a branding deck for a boutique hotel when her phone rang.
Julie.
Naomi answered immediately.
“Did you land?”
There was silence.
“Julie?”
“I’m sorry,” Julie whispered.
Naomi sat upright.
“What happened?”
“Marco was on the flight.”
Everything inside Naomi went cold.
For a moment, she could not speak.
Then she stood so abruptly her chair hit the wall.
“What did you say?”
“He was sitting beside Lily.”
Naomi’s hand shook around the phone. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. He was kind to her.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“He didn’t hurt her, Naomi.”
Naomi closed her eyes.
“Where are you?”
“At the airport. We’re getting our bags.”
“Don’t come here.”
“Naomi—”
“Do not bring Lily here.”
“He knows.”
Her breath caught.
“What does he know?”
Julie began to cry.
“He knows Lily is his.”
Naomi sat down slowly.
The room around her blurred.
Five years.
Five years of hiding.
Five years of telling herself Marco had chosen not to find them.
Five years of imagining what she would say if he ever stood in front of her again.
None of those imagined conversations had prepared her for this.
“You told him?” Naomi asked.
“No. Lily did.”
Of course she did.
Lily had inherited Naomi’s heart and Marco’s fearlessness. She told truths like they were gifts, not grenades.
Naomi pressed a hand to her mouth.
“Listen to me,” she said. “Take Lily to Aunt Rosa’s apartment in Astoria. Not mine. Don’t use your car. Call me from there.”
“Naomi, he said he wasn’t leaving.”
Naomi’s laugh came out broken.
“Men like Marco Moretti always say that when they want something.”
But even as she said it, a dangerous memory surfaced.
Marco standing in an airport in Atlanta, his hand wrapped around hers, his voice low and certain.
I leave for business. I leave for war. But I always come back to you.
Naomi had believed him then.
That was the problem.
Across the city, Marco stood outside a private terminal while his security team waited at a respectful distance.
Lily was asleep against Julie’s shoulder, pink backpack hanging from one arm. Her stuffed rabbit had fallen to the floor.
Marco bent down and picked it up.
The rabbit wore a tiny yellow dress and had one ear bent sideways.
“What’s its name?” he asked softly.
Julie looked exhausted.
“Mr. Buttons.”
Marco stared at the rabbit.
“Of course it is.”
Julie almost smiled.
Then the smile disappeared.
“You can’t just show up at Naomi’s apartment.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know. You think showing up is enough because that’s how your world works. You want something, you send people. You make calls. Doors open.”
Marco’s gaze lifted to hers.
“And what do you suggest?”
“I suggest you remember that Naomi has spent five years believing you abandoned her.”
“I didn’t.”
“But she thinks you did.”
Marco looked toward the black SUV waiting nearby.
His security chief, Luca DeSantis, stepped closer. Luca had been with Marco since they were teenagers. He was broad, sharp-eyed, and loyal enough to kill for Marco without hesitation.
“Boss,” Luca said quietly. “Do you want us to locate Naomi Ellis?”
Marco looked down at Lily sleeping against Julie.
Then he thought of the threat. The false death. His father’s fingerprints across a lie that had stolen half a decade.
“Yes,” he said.
Julie stiffened.
“But not like that,” Marco added.
Luca blinked.
Marco Moretti rarely gave gentle instructions.
“Find her address,” Marco continued. “No surveillance. No intimidation. No contact. I want to know whether she’s safe.”
Julie searched his face.
“And if she doesn’t want to see you?”
Marco looked at Lily again.
“Then I’ll wait.”
Luca’s phone buzzed.
He checked it, and his expression changed.
Marco noticed immediately. “What is it?”
Luca hesitated.
“A message from one of our people in Atlanta.”
“Say it.”
“Someone has been asking about Naomi Ellis.”
Julie went pale.
Marco’s entire body went still.
“Who?”
“We don’t know yet,” Luca said. “But the inquiry came through an old Moretti contact. Someone connected to your father’s former operations.”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
Vittorio was dead.
But his shadows were moving.
And now they knew Naomi was alive.
Marco looked at Julie.
“Take Lily somewhere safe.”
Julie held the sleeping child tighter. “You said no intimidation.”
“This isn’t about intimidating you.”
“What is it about?”
Marco’s eyes darkened.
May you like
“Keeping my daughter alive.”
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